


Bruised Souls

by KenrakenOkwaho



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Background Relationships, Background Slash, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Civil War (Marvel), Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, I'm Bad At Titles, Implied Slash, Light Angst, M/M, Marvel Universe, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Recovered Memories, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenrakenOkwaho/pseuds/KenrakenOkwaho
Summary: He is broken, she is cracked... maybe... she can heal him with the damaged pieces of her heart.Or: The one where Wanda discovers that she may or may not have feelings for one grumpy super soldier and ends up roaming through a labyrinth of memories to heal his broken mind before moving on to his soul.





	1. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been thinking about this pairing for a while and I thought why not write a fic about them, that will be interesting. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy my story and please leave your feedback in a comment, it helps me a lot to know your opinion!

It's been over a year since Bucky was put back into cryostasis. Subsequent to all the chaos with Sokovia, the Government and Zemo, everything calmed down somehow. Perhaps because they made themselves scarce soon after Steve broke them out of the Raft. Except for Clint, who returned to his family and their, thankfully, secluded farm, all those who supported Steve and his reasoning left the States mostly unnoticed with the help of T'Challa, banned from entering the country by the impossibility to go undetected due to each security structure being under direct orders to arrest them if they cross the borders. Sam and Natasha went to South Africa, Lang vanished completely and she accompanied Steve and Bucky to Wakanda to ensure the latter's safety. She could've chosen to leave on her own, but, like Clint, Steve showed her so much compassion and acceptance, even after all the disaster she caused because she let herself be pulled under the wave of grief and rage, drowning in her hatred for Stark, letting it dictate her actions, letting it control her life... If she wasn't so weak spirited Pietro wouldn't be dead, the people who died in Sokovia would still be alive and none of this would have happened. That's why she owes the two Avengers... big time.

 

Yet she can't shake the feeling that there is more to her commitment to help the inseparable super soldiers. She remembers the seemingly endless hours the three of them spent on the private jet as if they happened yesterday, each lost in their own thoughts, only the smell of burnt metal and the sound of short circuiting wires echoing in the deafening silence. The ghost of pained blue-grey orbs flashes before her mind's eye. So much sorrow condensed in just one lost gaze. That's how she knew instantly how much stronger the former Winter Soldier actually was, that's how she now realises how feeble she is compared to him, both as a soul and as a body. Steve told her about the Sergeant's life, about their childhood and the happy days long gone, he told her about **them** , about their hidden and admittedly short relationship, and about the horrors that Bucky had to endure, torture, never-ending sessions of experiments and psychological torment. Having his mind shattered in tiny pieces over and over again should have either killed him or leave him entirely empty and emotionless, but... in the end... it didn't... because Steve was there, he has always been there, right by his side.

 

Lost in thought, she didn't notice the curious glance cast her way, but when she did, oh, when she did the whole world stopped. That moment, when their eyes met for the second time since they encountered each other will forever remain ingrained in her memory. Wild sparks of something tender, ardent, foreign to her altogether, flew between them, electrifying her entire being as she felt the two of them connect, merging like two pieces of a puzzle they yearned to complete. It was brief, but it was powerful.

 

Exhaustion took over her body soon after and she blacked out at some point, the soft purr of the engines lulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she woke up, everything around her was unfamiliar. Wide windows let the silver light of the moon cascade over the minimalistic but fine decorated room, a glass of water glistening by her bedside. Suddenly, the thirst seemed to be unbearable and she downed it without breathing before jumping to her feet. She was still dressed in her battle clothes. A knock brought her out of her thoughts, the door sliding open only to reveal Steve, arms crossed and a terribly concerned expression painted on his chiseled features, always such a worrywart. From there, everything was a blur, the unconvinced look on Steve's face when she told him she was all right, the light conversation they had on their way to the medical wing, the pressure of her weight on straining feet as Steve led her through the lab's door. And, through all that flurry, one second keeps replaying in her head, the second they see him, clad in pristine white, smiling brightly as they approached with fearful steps. So carefree and serene he seemed to be in that moment, so at peace, so _**pure**_ , like an angel whose wings have only just begun to grow back. The truth was entirely different. Inside, a torrent of pain was raging. They figured it out not because he showed it, but because T'Challa told them what had transpired before they came. The wires left behind by the separation of the arm were linked directly to Bucky's nerves so he felt like losing his arm all over again. They gave him the most powerful painkillers to prepare him for the procedure of cutting the rest of his prosthetic, but they didn't work and he was awake the whole time. What was worse? He didn't even flinch as they disconnected it wire by wire, not a sound or grimace, just a blank, hollow face that somehow evaporated after they were done, melting into a strangely peaceful expression.

 

Wanda recalls suggesting that her powers could be the key to erasing the trigger words. She was met with resistance from all the three males. She remembers Steve's stern refusal, she remembers T'Challa's diplomatic answer... she remembers _**his**_ soft eyes boring into hers as he resisted the temptation, saying that it was too dangerous. She remembers his gentle smile as he thanked her for saving him, for helping Steve, for being there with them when she could have been somewhere else instead. She remembers the urge to wrap her arms around him and never let him go, she remembers the need to whisper that everything will be alright while she would warm the cold shell he has become and bring him back to life. She remembers stuttering a shy "Cu plăcere." so that only he could understand.

 

She remembers his tranquil face as eyelids slid close, embracing the ice as it gradually enveloped his tired and battered body.

 

They left for Tibet soon after, T'Challa reassuring Steve that he will do everything in his power to find a solution to eliminate Hydra's mental program from the super soldier's fragmented and broken mind. They left with the promise to return in a few months.

 

She left with the promise that she'll become his light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might or might not know "cu plăcere" means "you're welcome" in Romanian.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at kenrakenokwaho.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I find the concept that our minds are like some kind of labyrinths quite fascinating, it seems pretty amazing to me and, therefore, I've decided to use it in order to make things more interesting. I hope I was at least a wee bit successful in my mission, but I will only find that out if your feedback is involved.
> 
> Enjoy! Hugs!

They do return, although it takes them longer than expected.

 

Now, after a year and a half, they finally came back to him. Unfortunately, they are met with unfavourable news. Despite Wakanda's incredibly advanced technology and the scientists that operate it, no progress has been made regarding Bucky's recovery. Unstable as he is, even the slightest change on neural level can easily disintegrate all traces of the cognitive processes governing not only the brain, but the entire psyche. The few solutions they came up with imply extremely high risks and a significant period of time to heal such a broken mind. In hindsight, the latter is not a problem, both super soldiers have more than enough time on their hands, but gambling with the possibility of completely erasing every memory the man has ever had is a risk neither Steve, nor T'Challa is willing to take. That's how they reach the conclusion that the last resort they have is using Wanda's powers to link the pieces back together, a suggestion that the witch herself had made many months ago, but was met with direct disapproval from all sides. This, too, presents obvious dangers, of course, but it is without doubt the only way of freeing Bucky of the Winter Soldier's curse.

 

When they arrive at the king's compound, they arrive to chaos. Everything around is like a swirl of rushing bodies, yells and booming orders. It's a surprise that they are even able to find T'Challa. He tells them it's Bucky. Apparently, the super soldier's brainwaves along with his heart rate suddenly began to elevate in the middle of the night, going haywire once the first rays of the sun painted the sky. Nightmares, the scientists said, no... more like repressed memories that chose to manifest right before they returned, such is their luck. Memories powerful enough to trigger involuntary movements of the body. Encased as the brunet was, he couldn't really break free... that's what they told themselves. After the initial shock passed, the staff managed to somewhat stabilise him. It didn't last, however. The moment when the ice inside the cryo-chamber started to crack was the moment when true panic clawed at each heart beating in the medical wing. Almost imperceptible twitches of the muscles slowly transformed into full spasmodic motions, barely constricted by the glacial wall.

 

Strangely enough, all the commotion arose at the exact same time when Steve and Wanda were boarding the jet T'Challa sent to take them. It's like Bucky felt their presence long before they even set foot on Wakandan land.

 

She looks at Steve and he looks back, a glint of relief sparkling in both pairs of eyes as the message in them is more than clear. It's a good thing he doesn't have the prosthetic arm anymore.

 

There is no time for further explanations. They are told that the preparations for defrosting have already begun. Wanda has to move fast. When she sees the nearly melted ice and the still asleep soldier struggling under the frail restraints, her blood thrums through her veins, wilder than ever before. If she screws this up, there is no turning back and the former Howling Commando will be lost forever. She **has** to do this right. Her lungs seem to stop working for a second as the glass barrier of the chamber slides away, everyone taking a step back, except her. Cautious, yet quick, she makes her way towards him in a flurry of scarlet, delicate hands glowing brighter as she approaches. He flinches when she gently brushes strands of brown hair out of his flushed and sweaty face, but somehow calms down instantly after... as if he recognises tha soft caress, not yet aware of the pain that is to come. The redhead abhors the necessity of making him suffer more. She closes her eyes tightly as her fingers glide closer to his temples. His agonized scream echoes through the jungle when they reach their target, letting her power merge with his mind.

 

Once her astral self materialises inside his subconscious, green orbs widen in disbelief. It's like nothing she has ever seen before. Rows and rows of shattered mirrors swirl around her in a blank labyrinth of cutting shards. For a while, it's quiet, a deafening silence soaring through the darkness above her, she doesn't even know exactly what she's looking for. The unexpected laugh that bounces off the vitreous passages is startling to say the least. She assumes a fighting stance, ready to attack if necessary. Another sound makes her jump, this time a scream accompanied by the sharp wheezing of fired bullets. She turns. No one's there. More noises follow. A childish giggle, a pained cry, a tender whisper, all ringing in her years like ghosts from a long-gone life. It takes Wanda an embarrassingly long while to realise that the heartfelt echos come from the shards scattered at her feet. Lowering her gaze, she spots a fragment of glass fairly different from the others... animated, colored, lively. Naturally and with a little hesitation, she crouches to pick it up, but when she touches it her world goes black for a second before she finds herself in the small and unfamiliar living room of an apartment, a blond boy staring at her from a napless and obsolete couch as his scrawny body trembles with chills and coughs and his too pale skin seems to blanch even more.

 

Odd, he doesn't react in any way. Maybe he is too delirious to notice her presence. When she hears a feminine voice drawing nearer, she panics, frantically searching for a place to hide. Too late. It happens so fast that she barely registers the sensation. A shudder rakes through her sinews and bones as she feels a body going right through her. She is shocked. The slim woman who appears before her eyes is beautiful, wavy locks of blond hair framing her dainty features, milky white skin adorned with wrinkles betraying a lifetime of suffering and clear blue eyes reflecting sorrow, love and fierceness. She seems weary and amort while her shaky hand raises to linger on the child's sweaty forehead, whispering words of comfort as she cradles him in her arms.

 

"It's going to be all right, honey, mommy's here."

 

The pounding of small feet running towards them is the only warning she gets before the same peculiar feeling passes through her ethereal form. Moments later, a wet and quivering brown-haired boy stands beside the two fragile figures cocooned on the couch, his small and scared voice resounding through the bare walls of the room.

 

"Aunt Sarah... is he going to be okay?"

 

The only answer he gets is the soft rustle of the blanket as it's being lifted, a silent invitation to join them. He gets under the covers on the other side of the blond boy, finally facing Wanda's invisible form. She cannot repress the gasp that glides past her lips as familiar blue orbs come into sight.

 

"Bucky!?!?"

 

He seems to hear her bewildered call, blue irises snapping in her direction instantly, yet his distant gaze speaks of phantoms and confusion as he begins to fade along with Sarah's lullabies.

 


	3. Bloody Lullabies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... it took me a while, but the third chapter is done. Sorry for the disappointing length, but it's all I could come up with after three weeks consisting of three beautiful exams per each :))
> 
> Enjoy and remember, feedback is always welcome!

A bright light blinds her for a few seconds, drowning the cramped living room in white beams as it envelops her before she can say anything. When light green orbs open again, they see the same labyrinth of glass she left behind not long ago. This time, at her feet lies a larger shard, anguished screams and the sound of bullets flying everywhere clawing at her eardrums while clouds of smoke prevent her from seeing what unfolds on the memory glass. She bends down to pick up the sharp fragment. The moment her fingers touch the lustrous surface, she is pulled in, most likely into another one of Bucky's barely intact memories.

 

Her body materialises in the middle of amber flames, trenches dug on either side of her, desperate shouts mingling with the deafening hiss of projectiles flying by. It's all too painfully familiar, she feels raw, cut open alive and forced to remember the fear sinking into her heart whilst she and Pietro waited for the shell to explode and wipe them off the face of the earth. Suddenly, a particular yell snaps her out the world of sorrow she fell in, drawing her attention towards one of the trenches partially obscured by fire.

 

"Barnes! Barnes!"

 

She tries to find out where the calls are coming from, but she doesn't get too far before they stop, rendering helpless, rooted to the spot until the soldier speaks again.

 

"Barnes! Open your eyes!!! Can you hear me!?!?"

 

This time she locates them in a nearby ditch to her right, running there as fast as her ghostly form can take her through the rain of grenades, bullets, grime and gore. The sight that greets her strikes panic into her whole being, even though she knows it's just a buried recollection. A semi-unconscious and battered Bucky is withering away into the arms of a slightly massive moustached man, blue eyes flickering open then close again as his companion shakes him lightly in a hopeless attempt to keep him awake.

 

"Bucky, eyes on me, eyes on me! Don't fall asleep, pal, this place s'not our barracks."

 

A hardly audible laugh escapes split lips, eyelids fluttering open in hopes of managing to focus on the other soldier. In vain. They fall back closed, coughs raking Bucky's lungs accompanied by a worrying amount of blood spilling from his mouth and down his chin. Crimson stains their uniforms, their skins, the ground around them, a perfectly grotesque representation of what war truly is... an earthly inferno meant for those who love their country to death, for those courageous humans who choose to sacrifice their own lives so that they can protect others. War, in its purest essence, is tragic and absurd, it means endless days and nights spent in mud and cold, in hunger and thirst, irrational in its entirety, only bringing the whole of human being to annihilation and damnation, closer and closer to the lukewarm embrace of death. For Wanda, war is a plague, a calamity, a curse never to be lifted, never to release mankind from its razor-edged clutches.

 

Staring from beside them, she can see how Bucky's life begins to fade, limbs falling limp at his sides while his comrade tries and tries to stop the inevitable. Naturally, she knows that this won't be his end, but she acts on instinct nonetheless, leaning closer to whisper his name in a soothing voice.

 

"Bucky..."

 

Blue-grey orbs snap open instantly, staring at and through her at the same time, a spark of recognition flashing giving her hope that he might see her this time. Fate isn't on her side yet again, the wounded copy beginning to vanish, eyes never leaving hers.

 

◇◇◇

 

The same pristine light glows around her, erasing scorched trees and holey ground while the tortured cries in the background gradually fade to mere ghosts of the past. Something changes with this transition, however, because when she opens her eyes she isn't in the same hyaline galleries as before. Now, she finds herself in a semi-dark and seemingly abandoned building, a poorly lit tunnel stretching in front of her. What draws her attention most is the tall man and the strangely familiar shield plastered on his back as he jogs after a small shadow far ahead before stopping when a pained grunt reaches his ears. Running in that direction, she enters some kind of green-illuminated laboratory where barely coherent mumbles bounce off the humid walls.

 

Soon, it's obvious why she thought she knew that soldier. It's Steve, a "younger" Steve who has finally managed to find the man he loved, the man he hoped to see again. So much emotion pours from this reunion, it's actually overwhelming for Wanda, but she's just as happy as they are, despite the faint twinge of jealousy stinging her heart when the two exchange equally relieved and disbelieving words.

 

"It's me. It's Steve."

 

"Steve..."

 

She is prepared for the heated kiss that comes next, Steve has told her this story one too many times for her to forget such a detail, a detail she is thankful she was given the privilege to know. Turning around, she decides to give them much-deserved privacy before speaking Bucky's name in hopes that maybe this time he will really see her. A pink blush dusts her pale cheeks along with the fresh image of the kiss replaying in her mind whilst she waits, accompanied by the amused smile that graces her plump lips when she hears their typical, light-hearted banter.

 

"I thought you were dead."

 

"I thought you were smaller."

 

Then, she turns back to them, looking compassionately at Steve's worried expression, but time is of essence and she won't waste any more of it so she calls out to him in a gentle, yet stern tone.

 

"Bucky!"

 

Like all those previous times, eyes shift immediately to her. Unfortunately, the same vacant look is glazed over blue irises as Bucky's thin and damaged form grows dimmer and dimmer while she prepares to be engulfed again by snowy beams, the shouts and explosions booming outside, singing yet another painful melody, another internecine lullaby.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I haven't messed this up that bad :)) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Healing Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four is heeere! Although shorter than the others, it has a tone of finality regarding Bucky's mental programme and a few realisations too for the characters.
> 
> Enjoy and Feedback, please, it's essential for a writer!

When green orbs open again, she's not back in the glass labyrinth, no, she is standing before a raving Bucky Barnes, weak and broken beyond repair, switching from blank to shocked then completely out of control as he punches one of the scientists fiddling with his prosthetic arm. They point their guns at him, they humiliate him, slap him until he starts mumbling about a man on a bridge with such intense pain shining in his eyes that it makes her heart ache with an anguish she wished she will never have to feel again. They lie to him, they manipulate him and she can do nothing but watch how they fill his head with nonsense about freedom and Hydra's fight for a greater good that never truly existed in their midst. The sting of unshed tears prickles at her eyes when she hears him whisper a pathetic "But I knew him...", remorse and sorrow so clear in his voice along with the reluctant stubbornness to cling onto the memories Wanda can see flashing in his wary gaze.

 

Then, they 'wipe' him and, God, a hysterical laugh threatens to leave her lungs. They brainwash him, they pick his brain apart and all they can say is just 'wipe' him... like a computer no longer needed for what it's been programmed, a piece of technology in need of reformatting. Bitter tears trickle down her cheeks when his first scream is ripped from his lungs... and they don't stop, they don't... not even after he quiets down. They keep replaying in her head, resounding like the shrieks of a wounded animal. Silence... the silence hurts when they finish his torture, leaving him a mangled soul, a breathing ghost trying to come back to life. That's why she can't just stand there motionless anymore, feet moving on their own accord towards the sweat-drenched man hunched over in that despicable chair. Delicate fingers brush through damp brown locks, caressing the burns marring Bucky's temples, the burns that have already started to heal, soon only a memory he will no longer feel. Palms rest upon flushed cheeks, mapping the contours of his rugged face before tilting his head to look into blue depths.

 

"Bucky."

 

Something snaps then. Lucidity fills forlorn eyes as he finally seems to recognises her. Uncontrollable waves of agony and solace merge into a raging tornado of confused sentiments and sensations, a bottomless well of tears soon following and, with them, a relieved tilt of the lips while trembling hands reach out to grab her by the shoulders, gently pulling her in his arms.

 

"Wanda... it's really you..."

 

He cries, face pressed into the milky crook of her neck, nose buried in her auburn waves as he clings to her akin to a child who lost his mother, sobs echoing around them while they remain constant and immovable like time in a world that continues to crumble in a poor attempt to stop it from flowing and taking their lives.

 

They cry.

 

They cry together.

 

And when the tepid light envelops their embracing forms...

 

They smile.

 

◇◇◇

 

It's peaceful when her eyes blink open, back into the lab that blended with her scarlet energy. It's quiet too as multiple stares zone it on her and the limp body lying in a pool of melted ice. Looking at him now, he seems so young, so serene that nothing can touch him, so otherworldly that she is afraid if someone touches him he might disappear. She smiles again, wide and bright, content with her efforts and hoping, simply hoping that what she did wasn't be in vain. Her legs give out before she can say anything, vision fading to black just moments before strong arms catch her in their comforting hold.

 

◇◇◇

 

Hours later, she wakes up to Steve watching her like a hawk, worry written all over his face until she covers his hand with her own in a silent gesture that conveys how all right she really is and how he shouldn't be so fretful. Minutes pass and they stay in comforting tranquility, neither saying a word for fear of ruining the moment. After a while, she finally speaks, whispering with a weak voice the question that plagued her from the second she became conscious again.

 

"How is he?"

 

"As fine as one who had his brain picked at can be. He woke up an hour after that, asking for you."

 

Despite all that happened, she is still taken by surprise. She didn't expect the super soldier to hold on to that last memory where he recognised her. What surprises her even more and, at the same time, it really doesn't, is to see a gleam of something dark flashing in his eyes before disappearing as if it was never there, replace by the happy and fatherly warmth he has been bestowing upon her ever since they realised they were not enemies. Steve always makes her feel protected, loved, emotions that ceased to exist for a while after Pietro died, but then came back full-force, keeping her alive inside.

 

"Thank you..."

 

She doesn't realise she's lost in her musings until Steve's soft murmur snaps her out the deep emotional rollercoaster she's been riding. Light emerald focus on the blond with fondness, her hand squeezing his with reassurance. It's all the Captain needs to know that everything will be all right, one way or another.

 

They will always fight.

 


	5. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I last updated, but here it is, the fifth chapter! Things are starting to become more personal, folks. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and, please, leave some feedback!

When they finally meet the next day in the lab, it's a bit awkward. Not in a bad way, of course, but for some reason, they stare at each other as if it's the first they stand face to face in the same room. Well... technically, despite the fact that they shared a plane on the way here, communication between them has been pretty much non-existent so, in hindsight, this could be considered the very first conscious contact they have. Beside her, Steve is trying, but failing to muffle an amused chuckle, giving her a pat on the back and, unknown to Wanda, a wink to his friend before leaving to talk to a very science engrossed T'Challa.

 

Then, their gazes set on one another and the corners of his lips tilt up. In this moment, he looks just like an angel, blue-grey eyes twinkling along with his gradually widening smile as he strides closer until only two feet of space part them. It's clear neither of them knows what to say first and she desperately wants to say something, but her brain doesn't seem to want to cooperate yet. In the end, he saves her by taking the task of staring the conversation upon himself, timid and unsure, yet gentle with gratefulness.

 

"Thank you... y'know, for piecing back my brain, I finally feel like I'm the only one in there."

 

It's so genuine that a smile of her own brightens her pale face along with a light pink blush dusting her cheeks as she looks up, suddenly shy and giddy from the close proximity. Damn, she's already far too in over her head...

 

"Umm, yeah... you're welcome. Sorry I... sorry I put at risk..."

 

So free spirited... he seem so free spirited when he laughs. After all that happened to him, contrasting with the permanent veil of sadness in his eyes, he's somehow able to find the strength to laugh. It took her a long, looong while to be able to do that after her parents' death... even more so after Pietro's. Fortunately, she had Steve and Sam and... Vision. She knows she felt something for the android. Maybe she still does, she hasn't figured it out yet and the newly developed feelings for Bucky make the matter all the more difficult that it already is.

 

"So..."

 

"So how're you feeling? I hope my wandering through your mind didn't do too big of a number on you."

 

That laugh again. Her heart skips a beat.

 

"It kinda did, at first. I got over the paranoid state fairly quickly. I still hear the words in my head though, it'll take a while to bury them."

 

"That's to be expected. All those years of torture can't be erased in one day. I can help you with that."

 

Green locks onto blue and there it is again, that spark coursing through their bodies once more, so similar to that moment on the jet, yet somehow slightly different. Of course her mind prompts her to stammer right at this time, which is painfully typical and troublesome of Wands.

 

"I-If you want to, o-of course."

 

He opens his mouth to respond, but an accented voice interrupts whatever he was going to say, the Wakandan King towering over them in all his regal glory.

 

"Forgive my intrusion, but he have to run a few tests, Mister Barnes. Would you mind coming with me?"

 

Well, it's fair to say that both she and Bucky indeed mind the abrupt stop of their discussion as he looks at her questioningly, but neither can afford to be disrespectful however, not to a man who literally saved their butts, previous opposition and attempt to kill aside.

 

"S'all right. We'll catch up later."

 

A nod and a promising smile guarantee her that they will. She watches them walk away, soon past the door of the lab while Steve almost teleports by her side with a dubious smug grin on his face.

 

◇◇◇

 

Later turns out to be in the middle of the night, in a huge kitchen with a glass of milk forgotten on the table, a stark contrast between warm flesh and cold metal wrapped tightly around her waist and a mane of brown matted hair tickling the junction of her neck. For all its sensual undertones, the situation is far from what it sounds like, the bitter tears dribbling on her neck should be enough proof of that. How did they get into this position? It is really hard to tell, all happened so fast.

 

Her day had been mostly uneventful after their encounter in the lab, reading, napping, contemplating life, occasionally being the target of Steve's discreet teasing. It's actually quite strange how the super soldier doesn't seem to have any qualms with the obvious magnetism sparking between Wanda and Bucky. Perhaps the blond is just that kind, no matter what, perhaps his feelings have changed course over time or they were of different nature from the very beginning and he didn't realise. Either way, she's glad that the Captain somehow's accepting whatever this thing between the two of them is. Hours passed, light turned into darkness and her exhausted being told her it was time to get a much-needed sleep. That's what she did, but, unsurprisingly in didn't take long for her to spring up in her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks and a sheen of cool sweat covering her skin. Sleep completely evaded her after that and that's how she ended up dragging herself to the kitchen.

 

Obviously, she didn't expect to find him there, but there he was, standing hunched by the large window which may just be considered a big glass wall displaying the endless jungle. Tousled hair covered the side of his face, only the cigarette between his lips emerging from behind the brown curtain as it kept burning to ashes while filling the room with its noxious smoke. How he got it is a question just as peculiar as the fact that he smoked in the first place. He didn't turn around when she silently made her way towards the cupboard where she fumbled with the glasses before going to the fridge. From the corner of her eye, she saw him shift.

 

Silence, there was only dead silence for a while after she sat down at the table. Until she couldn't take it anymore and decided to speak, a playful tone lightening her voice as she turned her head to look at him.

 

"Never pegged you as a smoker, Mister Barnes."

 

There's a pause before he responds, an almost impreceptible hint of amusement in his words whilst his hand moves to crush the cigarette-butt into its ashtray.

 

"Yeah... Steve always chided me, said I'll die one day from these."

 

The huskiness in his voice might have turned he on if it hadn't been laced with such heartbreaking sorrow. She was glad he was still looking out the window, else he might have interpreted the expression on her face as pity. Quietly, she stood up from her chair, tiptoeing beside him. When she saw the silent tears glistening on his cheeks, her own eyes began to sting from salty liquid, hand moving to rest lightly on his shoulder. His reaction was instant, body swaying immediately right into her waiting arms, face buried in her russet waves, hiding the evidence of his pain.

 

That's how she finds herself in this moment, one arm wrapped around his back, the other one lifting to let delicate fingers caress the nape of his neck in a semblance of comfort.

 


End file.
